


The True Value of Coffee (And other Surprising Realizations)

by southby



Series: Peripherals [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Relationships, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:49:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southby/pseuds/southby
Summary: Mica Royer is an intern at Stark Tower Labs, and desperately needs a mentor to hopefully secure a steady job - insurance after the Chitauri attack went up like you wouldn't believe.Tasked with a simple job that quickly goes sideways when she realizes she’s inTony Fucking Stark’s Lab, Mica comes to three realizations:1.	Her college academic advisor was right and she’s the most oblivious person in the world,2.	She didn’t realize just how attached to her travel mug she was,3.	And that coffee mug stealing robot definitely had a personality, no matter what that British security guard said.Her cat was going to be so pissed that she missed dinner time.
Series: Peripherals [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112771
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	The True Value of Coffee (And other Surprising Realizations)

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my first story ever posted, so PLEASE go crazy with the criticism. I prefer learning by being absolutely shredded in the comments. 
> 
> My goal is the create a collection of these stories, all focused on the characters in the peripherals of our favorite superheroes lives. 
> 
> No shit I don't own Marvel, pretty sure I wouldn't be crying over my credit card bill if I did. No beta, we die like little baby writers.

Mica sighed over the slow crawl of the data being output by the most recent NMR readings she had decided to run through at the last minute. Even after all the millions that she knew the Stark Lab was worth (probably billions, honestly), it was amusing to know no amount of money in the world could make science move faster than it wanted to. With the amount she paid for her undergrad, she should know. Cracking her neck to the side and rolling out her shoulders, she glanced at the clock to her right and wrinkled her nose – it had been several hours since her last coffee, and she knew she shouldn’t have given in to the urge to run the last data points before making the long trek home, but she couldn’t resist. She felt she was really close this time to getting an accurate readout on the ever-changing molecular structure of the samples she had been tasked with analyzing. Well, self-tasked. Nobody really asked much of her besides the most basics of analysis jobs, so she took it upon herself to find something to occupy the time in between the long tests. Never mind that this project had been pushed to the backburner after several other scientists had taken a stab at it; that just meant that there was no history of breakthroughs and therefore, no expectations for success! It also meant it was probably impossible, but, whatever. 

Taking a job at Stark Tower came with certain expectations on scientific returns, and Mica was filled with a constant anxiety over not meeting these goals – she took solace in the fact that she was technically labeled as a lowly intern. Nobody really expects much of the interns, anywhere, ever. Coffee runs and gossip hoarders, put too many interns in one place together and the collective IQ drops to room temp. Or, at least, that’s what upper management seemed to think. Luckily, the asshole that had stamped off on her papers to be allowed in was several levels above her, and Mica was safe in her cushion of many scientists in between her and any sort of business-type. While she felt she could place some level of confidence in her social skills, Mica knew she wasn’t cut out for any kind of business competition – who cares about patents? Or the cost of a joint merger? Negotiations and business deals? There were things to be discovered and understood! 

Or – well, there _would_ be things to be discovered and understood if Mica actually could isolate the structure of her samples. She knew it was organic (blue scales, textured, surprisingly flexible when heated), but also contained trace components of aluminum, magnesium, copper, silicon and even diamond. How they even managed to bind together had Mica scratching her head. And not to mention the – oh. The soft ding of the computer cut off her thoughts as she was flipping through her notes. Downloading the data and pulling out the Magic School Bus flash drive she kept with her since college, she shoved all her things into her backpack before flipping the lights on the empty lab. Closing in on one in the morning was pushing it, even for an intern, but Mica needed this job, and a scientific breakthrough of a shelved project would definitely put her on the radar for a more permanent position.

She glanced down at the travel mug she carried with her, and thinks about maybe just grabbing one more cup before the thirty minute subway journey. She knew traveling alone this late at night as a woman was always risky, and keeping aware of your surroundings was always important…. Mica carefully pushed aside thoughts that connected the words ‘caffeine’ and ‘addiction’. Besides, for whatever reason the coffee was unlimited, gourmet, but most importantly, _free_. No self-respecting 24-year-old who lived in New York passed up freebies. Plus, Mica had explored enough of the different levels she had access to and discovered that the coffee machine on her very own Level 32 (materials analysis and chemistry labs) produced the best pot, hands down. Logically, they were all the exact same machine (she checked) and all stocked the exact same coffee (also checked), but it was the truth. 

To be fair, Mica was much more accepting of things she couldn’t always explain after a Norse God tried to invade Earth and a comic book hero was found somehow still alive in the arctic. Being a scientist aside, that was the New Yorker in her. 

Rounding the corner into the well-furnished breakroom, Mica was startled to see another lab coat in front of the coffee machine; while it was not unheard of to run into fellow scientists at this hour, this breakroom wasn’t a popular one. Some genius started to cohabitate their ongoing experiments and materials with the workers lunches, and while firm rules had since been established, the smell of formaldehyde never quite dissipated. A large piece of paper was taped to the front of the fridge to the left of the coffee pot (re-taped, clearly torn down in a silent act of rebellion) that proclaimed **“STOP KEEPING HAZERDOUS CHEMICALS IN THE FOOD FRIDGE. TWO INTERNS HAVE BEEN HOSPITALIZED”**. 

Mica re-evaluated her scoffing reaction at the idea of room-temperature IQ. 

Regardless.

The man seemed to be staring at the dripping machine as if it held the secrets to the universe – Mica winced because knew that look, she had been doing the exact same thing only a handful of hours ago. She sniffed loudly as to not startle the man, but he seemed to jump a little anyways. He turned towards her, and a hand pushed up the glasses that rested on his nose. Mica took note of curly brown hair that gave off the strong impression that had just woken up at his desk before wandering over here. 

“Congrats on unlocking a special achievement: Found Best Coffee Pot in Stark Tower!” She chanced a small smile at the man and walked up beside him while unscrewing the lid on her mug. “Mind if I steal some of the pot when its finished?” 

A slow blink answered her, and Mica was vividly reminded of the way elephants look at people. Confused to be talked to in a foreign language by a creature so clearly different. The man seemed to be several moments behind in the conversation, judging by his eyebags, but Mica also knew that scientists regarded normal sleep schedules in a vaguely disgusted way most people regard vegans. Interesting, but ultimately annoying. She preferred 30 minute naps behind the fluorimeter when she felt near crashing.

After several awkward seconds had passed and a more and more embarrassed Mica considered simply turning around and leaving before the man could take note of the name stitched on her lab coat, he seemed to come back to himself with a small jolt. 

(When Mica got her first lab coat with her name stitched below the Start Industries logo, she cried and swore to keep it until she died. She knew she wasn’t the highest ranked graduate, which made landing this internship even better.)

“Of course! Sorry.” He gave a small smile and handwaved the miracle machine that still seemed several minutes away from finishing. “I’m not a good judge on if you’re right about the machine, I was just unlucky enough to be present for the death throes of my machine upstairs.” 

She gave a sympathetic wince at the thought of losing her coffee machine when she needed it the most – lord knows the scientific community would be centuries behind if coffee had never been invented. Telling the man, he gave a small laugh that crinkled his eyes. 

He pushed up his glasses again, and asked the dreaded question – “What are you working on this late at night?”

Mica knew the answer to this question. Every intern that wants to make a good impression to their higher ups knows the answer to this question. Hell, ask any kiss-ass student to answer this question and they could. Normally, she would give some generic response on how she was in charge of running some highly complex data analysis to try and impress this guy who would somehow, hopefully, recommend her by name to be kept on for next round of hiring. 

Instead, what came out of her mouth was – “Fuck if I know.” 

Mica’s eyes flew wide, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Apparently, the guy was also as surprised as judging by the way his eyes widened and he blinked at her twice. He looked like she had lightly smacked him in the face with a rolled up newspaper. Immediately she took note of his name on his coat and started babbling apologies – “Oh my god, Dr. Anderson, I am _so sorry_ , that was so unprofessional of me, I would blame it on the hour but I actually work late _a lot_ because science never sleeps, right, but its just I have been so frustrated by the lack of progress on my side project,” her hands flew up in front of her to clutch her travel mug in front of her chest, “But _of course_ my main tasks are being completed on time and-"

The man let out a loud laugh before glancing down at his coat, as if to check that the Stark Industries logo was still there and hadn’t been replaced by the Hammer Tech insignia – the only place who would hire _incompetent interns who apparently thought it was ok to swear at people who could have her booted on the spot._

 _Yea,_ Mica really was rethinking her reactions to the room-temp IQ statements.

Amazing, how fast someone can turn into a statistic. 

He raised a hand passed his smile to rub at his eyes behind his glasses, before waving it in front of him. Still chuckling, he said, “I completely understand. Science can be frustrating at the best of times, and when it comes to personal projects it can be a downright bastard”. He turned back to the coffee pot to check its status. “I take it your latest data isn’t falling into place?”

The woman still clutched the mug to her chest, not entirely unconvinced that this man who was a good four inches shorter than her wouldn’t decide to text someone on the hiring board and immediately demand security be contacted to escort her from the premise. Bone-white fingers slowly unclenched from her mug as she explained the frustrations she was running into with identifying the structure of the complex samples she had found. The two eventually wound up at the small coffee table a foot away from the pot, as she and Dr. Anderson began discussing the hypotheticals of bond angles that could exist while still keeping a high flexibility and intermolecular strength. 

Mica glanced down and was not entirely surprised to see more than half the coffee pot and two AM gone, and a small table cloth formed of disposable coffee napkins that contained the inked on notes of two sleep deprived scientists. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry to have distracted you, I have completely taken up your night Dr. Anderson.” Her nervous shuffling of the notes drew his gaze up from the folders he was inspecting; his grin surprisingly energetic for so late at night (Morning? Time was relative anyhow).

He waved her off with a smile, “I forgot how much I enjoy both partner work and teaching others. I should probably look into getting my own intern in my department – while it was wonderful talking to you, I really have to get these to my coworker.” 

They exchanged closing pleasantries, and Mica gathered up the notes and placed the pot back onto the holder, he stood and gathered the two thick files that had laid to the side, forgotten in the whirlwind of a completely different task. 

Mica bit her lip and debated asking her next question – was it too much to ask after only a few hours of discussion? Everyone knew interns were pretty dumb, would it be unreasonable to ask for mentorship when she needed it? But employers prize independence, why would they hire someone who is riding the coattails of another? Uncertainty swirled in her head and stomach – oh, fuck it. She decided that she already swore in front of him and admitted to being completely clueless, one question couldn’t make it any worse. Well, _probably_ wouldn’t make it any worse. 

“Um, if its not too much trouble, I could possibly help with anything you need? I want as much experience as I can get, and this discussion was really helpful. But, only if its not too much trouble, I know your time is very important and interns can get in the way, and-“ Her nervous rambling was cut off when his slowly blinking eyes lit up and he smiled again.

“No, that would be fine – running the tensile and polymer tests is fairly easy with the machine, its fairly similar to the NMRs that you have on this floor. But only if you get your standard work done, I wouldn’t want any angry scientists knocking down my door.”

 _Boom_ , mentor secured. Steady paycheck, here we come. Man, she could wait to finally be able to actually buy her cat some better food, he was _not_ a fan of the current bargain brand. She hoisted her bag up on her should and screwed on the lid of her coffee mug; raising her hand to give the departing doctor a professional handshake (that would hopefully be the start of her long and groundbreaking career in science) she and Dr. Anderson jumped when a shrill alarm went off from his pocket.

Fumbling his own coffee mug and papers, the scientist swore as the alarm seemed to grow even louder. Caught between looking at the files in his hand and whatever urgent message was flashing on his phone, he finally raised his eyes back up to Mica. He quickly stepped forward and shoved the files into her hands. Nearly dropping them, she managed a small “Um…” before he turned around towards the door, only to turn right back around and also shove the coffee mug at her as well. 

_“Shit_ , shit, shit – ok I have to leave right now, this is an emergency, but I need you to run these to the back lab on Level 53.” His frantic movements and words seemed to smack the poor intern in the face. “Consider this your first job! Just take them into the lab and go to the desk by the couch, it has a secure drop-box for it any everything! Don’t let them out of your sight, they’re actually really important! JARVIS will let you in!” 

Mica’s tongue finally caught up to her as she stared down at the new items in her hand in confusions.

“Wait, Dr. Anderson I don’t have clearance for level 53, I don’t even know what-"

He was halfway out the door already, running around the corner and pulling off his lab coat. 

“Don’t worry about it, he’ll let you up!” 

And then he was gone. 

Mica stared down at the two thick files and two coffee mugs she now held in her hands and thought longingly of her bed and cat only two metro lines away. Then again, she kinda did ask for this by requesting to be his mentee. Thinking of Jared, the intern to Dr. Jorgensen who had to make two bagels runs a day, she figured it couldn’t be the worst thing to be tasked with doing. Better this than fighting Manhattan rush hour just to get a cinnamon bagel with salmon and lox (that is literally so _gross_ , why are the physical chemists so _weird?_ ). Sighing and making a left out of the coffee room, she walked the length of the lab to the secondary elevator in the back. The main elevator up from the employee entrance didn’t even go up above floor 40, but she knew the back one did for people with special keycards. She _also_ knew that Dr. Dyer kept her extra keycard in the bottom drawer of her desk, and that she had access to the wind tunnel on Level 42 in order to flirt with the lead developmental engineer of the experimental green-plane program. 

That was probably against company policy and _definitely_ a security violation, but Mica certainly wasn’t going to say anything. There were a lot of things interns learn, but the number one rule that existed was to keep your damn mouth shut. 

Honestly, Mica didn’t know what existed above Leve 44. Would it be something super crazy confidential? She knew it was a lab, based off of what Dr. Anderson had said, but what for? She signed a bunch of NDAs and confidentiality agreements just to get to Level 32 – flexing her hand, she wondered just how many new ones she would probably have to sign just by _thinking_ about anything above Level 44. Oh god, would she have to report this to HR? Or will some crazy advanced software system log her as an intruder right away? Security was pretty advanced in Stark Tower, who knows what kind of precautions they take to safeguard their secrets. Mica reminded herself that Dr. Anderson said there would be a person there to let her in and she would possible be able to explain the unique situation to them – Jarvis, no last name. Not a doctor, apparently. 

Looking at the broad panel of buttons, she decided to try and press the 53 just to see if it would work. To her surprise, it lit up. Blinking down at the keycard in her hand, Mica decided it was probably a good thing she didn’t have to use the technically illegal card to complete the task she was assigned. But then how had - ?

“Miss Royer, I presume?” 

Mica jumped at the smooth British voice that came on over the elevator intercom. 

“Oh! Um, yes sir. I’m Dr. Andersons, uh, new intern, he asked me to drop these off in the lab on Level 53. I assume you’re Jarvis?” She hastily shoved the card back into her coat pocket – no point in snitching on a superior if there was somehow a camera in here. 

“Yes ma’am, I am JARVIS. Thank you for dropping off the files at ‘Dr. Anderson’s’ request. I have allowed you temporary access to the senior levels, please follow the hallway back and to the left. I will let you into the lab when you arrive.” His voice seemed amused at something she couldn’t figure out. Mica felt a little strange about how Jarvis knew she was coming, but she figured Dr. Anderson must have sent him a message in between running for his life out the door. The intern wondered what was so important that he quiet literally dropped everything to dash out for, but then she remembered how fast Jared had learned to move when Dr. Jorgenson had discovered he had lost the samples to the major project he was tasked with managing. She patiently waited for the elevator to glide to a stop. 

“Thank you Jarvis, see you soon!” She chirped as she stepped out of the elevator. Silence greeted her as she walked into the hallway extending forty feet before branching to the left. Curiously craning her head, Mica nearly walked straight into the glass doors as she rounded the corner, only to have them swish open at the last second. Her feet carried her forward on autopilot before coming to a standstill as her brain caught up with the information that was being fed to it. Her mouth dropped open at the lab that lay before her – massive holographic displays lazily turned through the air, half-finished projects lay on rolling tables with tools half strewn about and – 

Holy shit. That was an entire wall of Iron Man suits at the far back. 

Oh fuck. _This was Tony Stark’s lab._

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck – she was so fired. She wasn’t even sure what for yet, but Mica was resolute in the knowledge that she was fired.  
Interns do not get to walk into _Tony Fucking Stark’s personal lab._

She was fairly certain that was a law, somewhere. Like, on some hiring-guys desk there is an embossed plaque that reads. **“INTERNS SHALL NOT BREACH LEVEL 53 LEST THEY WISH TO BE BLACKLISTED FROM THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY. AMEN.”**

Mica suddenly sympathized with anyone who had unexpectedly been hit upside the head with a cast iron pan. It probably didn’t happen a lot, but she would guess it felt like this. 

She blinks twice and slowly looks down at the files in her hand, before gingerly opening the front of the folder and seeing a massively bold **“CLASSIFIED: EYES ONLY FOR DR. BRUCE BANNER, TONY STARK.”**

She slams the folder back shut and goes through another round of twenty or so, “What the Fucks” in her head. She tells herself that it’s calming her racing heart rate down. Wait – but that would mean Dr. Anderson was actually – _oh my god how did she not recognize Bruce Banner he’s like the world most famous scientist girl you’ve read nearly every single paper he’s published._

 _‘To be fair, it’s not like they publish peoples faces with their work usually’,_ says the small voice of logic in her head.

 _‘You complete idiot I cant believe you asked a man with seven PhDs to be your mentor when you barely finished undergrad, stop lying to yourself.’_ Says the much louder voice, that sounds suspiciously like her academic advisor from college. He was an asshole.

 _‘Oh my god that wasn’t a science alert, that was probably an Avengers alert!’_ The voice reached new levels of incredulous in her mind. She gave in to the temptation of smacking her own forehead, wondering when it was she had become so oblivious. Mica resolved to put the files where they belong, find Mr. Jarvis, and ask him nicely to wipe her from the system so she can completely begin her life anew in Singapore. They need scientists over there, right? 

Only problem: there’s nobody here. Mica called out a shaky, “Hello?” to the lab, and only got the steady beeps and hums of the machines back. Scanning the floor, she completely missed the robot that rolls right up to her until it tries to take her travel mug out of her lax hand. 

“What the –“ She managed to get out before realizing that the little robots single claw has a much higher grip strength than her, and she was going to lose this fight. Its small frame rolled backwards on the floor, still clutching the mug, until it rounded a tool cart and rolled right up to a much larger robot that had a single hydraulic and rotating arm coming right out of the top. Mica, curiosity taking hold of her feet, followed the determined little robot halfway across the lab floor. For some reason, the larger robot seemed to have a ‘Dunce’ cap taped to the top of it. Watching the smaller bot extend the mug to the larger, as if showing off a hard-earned prize, Mica’s eyebrows crept up as she watched the Dunce cap bot slowly lower its arm down onto the top of the other one before raising it up and foot and lowering it back down. 

It took several seconds of this interaction for Mica to think, 

_Oh my god, its patting it on its head. It’s congratulating it on a job well done for stealing an intern’s mug. Wait, that’s actually kinda cute. WAIT, that’s my mug!_

Blinking quickly and deciding that she had nothing to lose given she was already probably going to get quietly disposed of by a shady government organization for seeing too much at such a low clearance level, she moved forward to brave the robots and try to rescue the mug. 

The larger robot swiveled its hydraulic arm around to face her, and suddenly, that lone claw looked a lot more menacing. The whole effect was a bit ruined by the paper hat taped to its (Head? Arm?) joint, and also by the large “Hello My Name Is” sticker that proudly labeled this robot’s name to be DUM-E, scrawled in purple sharpie. She smiled a bit nervously before asking, “Hello DUM-E; would you and your friend mind giving me my mug back? I’m just here to drop these things off.”

She felt a little ridiculous about the whole thing when the robot just looked at her (pointed at her? Does the claw have a camera somewhere? What kind of processing does it do to differentiate between – not important, stay on task. Rescue favorite travel mug now, think about robots later.) and swiveled back to patting the smaller robot on the head.  
Who was still clutching her favorite mug. 

And okay, its not like this mug was actually anything crazy special but that thing had been with her since her sophomore year of high school and had a big picture of famous women of color scientists on the front with “STEM-ISIST” under it and – dammit, it was hers! 

She was not about to get into tug of war with a small robot, especially not with a much larger robot that could easily kill her just looming behind it. She swore softly under her breath, and turned around to deal with the files before coming back to the mug-problem. Where was Jarvis? She needed to explain to this guy the whole situation and drop off everything and politely ask for him to forget she ever existed. Good lord, finding a “drop box” in this place was like trying to find Waldo in a massive floor-to-ceiling picture. Every available surface was cluttered with pieces and parts of unidentifiable natures, half drank coffees and what looks to be some kind of aggressively green smoothie. After working under many scientists over the years, Mica knew what inevitably happened when easily distracted people started setting their mugs next to their beakers- You go to take a sip of coffee at 8 AM, only to grab the beaker of benzene. 

Ah, Mica remembers that department wide email. She idly wonders if that biologist ever lived, and if it was the same habit with engineers and motor oil. Mica preferred her chemistry to disgusting amounts of math, thank you very much. She told this to the little robot, who still clutched her mug hostage, as he rolled along after her. Scrunching up her nose and the maze she had wandered into, she turns down to her small companion and decides to risk her question – not like there’s anyone around to judge her for talking to a robot ( _no_ , begging the NMR to run faster does _not count_ ). “I don’t suppose you could point me in the direction of the couch and the mysterious drop-box Dr. Ander- _Dr. Banner_ told me to find, could you?”

The little robot twisted its claw in a circle, which made Mica twitch as she watched her precious mug rotate 360 degrees. It scooted forward a few inches, and back again, as if debating whether or not to help her. It seemed to hit some kind of output in its code, however, and it took off like a rocket around another desk that held a large holographic display of what seemed to be a boot of an Iron Man Suit. Mica yelped and took off after it, chasing the little troublemaker as it darted around hairpin corners and slid underneath a twisted piece of metal. Mica jumped over it, desperately hoping that she wasn’t somehow setting off any strange defense mechanisms, before rounding a desk and skidding to a stop in front of a lumpy green couch. It rested on a worn out (and frankly, hideous) rug, and had a small and rickety coffee table sitting at its arm. The little robot swiveled to face her, and moved its arm up and down in excitement of a job well done. Mica decided to mimic the Dunce cap bot from earlier and leaned down to pat him on his head (Body? Chassis?). She glanced over at the coffee table, and upon closer inspection noticed the electrical tape that had been made into a square on its top, with a label stuck underneath it. The label read, **“SUPER SECURE SPOT FOR SUPER SECRET SCIENCE.”**

Desk and secure drop box, her ass. 

Mica didn’t know what government agency had a massive, blocky eagle as their logo, and she’s never really worked on anything that needed to be kept secret, but she’s fairly certain that the military or _whoever_ wouldn’t agree with the security of the “drop-box”. But, then again, Mica thought Stark Tower was pretty secure in general so what did she know. Delicately placing the files in their designated area, she debated trying to find a sticky note in her backpack to put on them apologizing for misidentifying Dr. Banner when she hears the sudden whirring of servos starting up behind her. She whips around, just to catch the tail end of that little mug-stealing mini-bot whip around the corner.

“You little shit, oh no you don’t, get back here!” She yells out after it before taking off. Suddenly, the speed at which the little guy moved at seemed to double and Mica nearly knocked over a part of a standing Iron Man suit ( _oh my god she nearly knocked over an Iron Man suit that this is probably worth more than all her organs combined_ ) before managing to catch back up to it hiding behind the Dunce Cap bot- DUM-E, she remembers. Mica is bent over, gasping, cursing all coffee-pot gods and late work schedules and lack of cardiovascular ability when she manages to finally straighten up. She pulls up to her full height, calls upon her best Olivia Pope voice, faces the two and says, “Let’s make a deal.” 

\------------

Thirty minutes later, they have managed to come to an agreement. Mica Royer will be returned one (1) favorite travel mug in exchange for her one (1) rainbow “Equality in Equilibrium!” fridge magnet she happened to have in her bag, two (2) Mae Jemison and NASA stickers, and the promise that Speedy Gonzales (the original mug stealer) could come down to Level 32 any time he wanted to steal the other interns mugs from the breakroom. Mica wasn’t sure DUM-E was really in charge of allowing Speedy to go where he pleased, given the Dunce cap, but she wasn’t gonna argue. She also wasn’t sure she had the power to be offering up other interns’ things as sacrificial lambs, but you snooze you lose in her mind. 

She really, really wanted to just go back and crash in her apartment, given tomorrow was a Sunday (today? Ugh. Don’t think about it.) but it was closing in on a bit past three am, and she had the day off until Monday. Packing all her things back into her backpack, she turned to the robots and stuck out her hand in as close to a ‘seal-the-deal’ handshake as she could manage with two hydraulic appendages. Sticking the magnet on DUM-E and the two stickers onto Speedy’s chassis, she awarded herself a metal pat on the back for a job well done.  
Logically, Mica knew they were robots who were running based off of preprogramed code and its only _seemed_ like they had their own personalities, but…. She liked to think that she had made two new friends and worked out her very first business deal. Logic is easily ignored, anyways. 

Swaying on her feet, she finally reached the elevator that would take her back down to the main floor, and after that she just had to walk down to the metro, then to the B-Line, then four stops, and then… oh fuck, she was tired. As the scientist swayed on her feet and contemplated her misery, a clear voice rang out over a speaker above the elevator buttons.  
“Miss Royer, if I may, I would suggest you using the overnight lounge on Level 6 for employees. Given both the late hour and your hard work this evening, it seems best that you wait until you have had at least 6 hours of steady rest.”

Mica gave a slight jump before opening her mouth in an expression of outrage and pointing an accusing finger at the speaker.

“You! Jarvis! Where the heck were you when I was contemplating selling my _soul_ to get my mug back?” 

A light laugh sounded over the speaker, and JARVIS simply said in a dry voice, “You handled the situation admirably, but I really must insist that you take your rest here. Besides, they are just robots – you could have walked away at any time, no?”

Mica frowned at the ground and at the feeling in her stomach that told her something different. While she was a scientist and knew logic was king, she also was human and liked the fact that she could imagine both the bots having their own personalities. Besides, even if she couldn’t prove it, she knew that the GCMS on Level 32 actively hated her. She turned her frown towards the ceiling speaker as she stepped into the elevator, and simply said, “Maybe.”

As the elevator began to descend, Mica grumbled about technicians and their inability to leave their observatory rooms. She knew it was probably the sleep deprivation, but she could hear the bastard trying not to smile. She knew she could. Also, Level 6 had sleeping areas? Honestly, as an intern who passed the time exploring other levels to find the best coffee machine and listen to the latest gossip, Mica was a little disappointed in herself that she didn’t know. But, she was self-aware enough to realize that traveling back, alone and tired, would be a bad idea. Superhero central of the world aside, that was just asking to get mugged- or worse. Her shuffling feet brought her out of the elevator and into a spacious room with tall cubicles housing grey sleep pods. Mica raised and eyebrow and though vaguely of The Matrix, before shrugging a shoulder and tapping the power button on the outside of a pod. The door opened, and inside lay a generic set of cotton pajamas. She glanced over her shoulder at the female bathrooms before dumping her stuff besides her new pod and going to change. A haze descended over her vision and she barely noticed the showers and washing rooms, before mechanically changing into her new Stark PJs (another thing she was apparently never going to get rid of) and walking back to her bed. Not bothering to set an alarm on her phone, her head hit the pillow with a soft thud, and she felt sleep already slipping over her. 

\-----------

Forty-seven levels above her, a small robot excitedly showed off his newest stickers to an extremely confused Iron Man, who did his best not to trip over him as he pried off pieces of his suit.  
When the billionaire asked JARVIS about the source of the new pieces of art, the only thing the AI would tell him is that DUM-E Jr. made a new friend, and that he had also been renamed. While the genius engineer tried in vain to argue over how as creator, he had ultimate naming rights, the digital butler took the liberty of adding Level 32 to the list of approved places ‘Speedy Gonzales’ was now allowed to go visit.

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats on making it through :) 
> 
> Lemme know what y'all thought, what kind of interactions you would want to see in the future, or even what your day was like! 
> 
> Also, HOW do you get things to be italicized and bolded, good lord.


End file.
